Cupid Carries a Gun
by blackkitty95
Summary: Modern AU. Sansa isn't weak. Margaery teaches her how to protect herself.


_First Sansaery fic! Title is taken from Marilyn Manson's song._

 _English isn't my native language, so there might be some mistakes._

* * *

She tells her he's a monster.

The brunette believes her.

Soon, he is found dead. A bullet through his head. No evidence, no witnesses. It's like an angel of mercy came down to earth in order to take the golden-haired monster out.

She knows who did it. She doesn't say anything, but she knows. And she's grateful.

They run away together. The brunette tells her that the Lannisters will want revenge and will extract it from the easiest targets first. Sansa feels ashamed and disappointed as she hears this - and angry as well. She is _not_ weak. Joffrey did not break her. She did not bend to his will. She even stood up to him - and paid painfully for it every time, of course.

The brunette, Margaery Tyrell, doesn't think that the auburn-haired beauty is weak. She thinks that she is stronger than most people think and braver than almost anyone would give her credit for.

Margaery Tyrell believes in Sansa Stark.

* * *

When Sansa Stark was a little girl, she used to dream of the perfect life. She would meet her Prince Charming when she was 19; they would marry when she was 21, and have a beautiful girl and a handsome boy by the time she was 25. However, she was soon taught a very cruel lesson. Life is not a song, she had been told once, and she soon came to understand what that meant. Joffrey took her dad away from her. He took her innocence and happiness away from her. He took everything from her. At least, he gave her a lesson as well, and a very important one at that: he opened her eyes and showed her what a cruel and ugly place this world is, how much hate and corruption and darkness it hides.

Sansa is certain that she would have lost all hope if it hadn't been for Margaery. She would only see the terrible side of the world and find no meaning in anything.

But Margaery, lovely Margaery, with her brown soft curls, her brown doe-like eyes in which you can drown, and her warm and sweet smile, shows to Sansa that the world has two sides just like a coin. Thanks to Margaery, she also sees the beauty even though she is aware of the terrors lurking.

She is _not_ weak.

* * *

Margaery's breath tickles her ear as her arms wrap around Sansa, her hands curling around the younger girl's knuckles to touch the cool metal of the shotgun. Sansa manages to suppress as shudder at the proximity and looks at her cardboard cut-out target. Bullet holes outline the edges of it, but she hasn't managed to hit anywhere vital.

"I'm sorry."

Margaery chuckles behind her. Sansa can imagine the smile on her beautiful face, can see it perfectly clear in her head. "Why are you apologising, my little wolf?" she asks.

Sansa smiles at the sound of the familiar and much loved nickname. It's personal, their own private joke, and it gives her strength. She remembers of another nickname she had, given to her by a person completely different from the one with her arms around her and her lips on her ear now. He was tall and intimidating, with terrible scars and a hoarse voice. He was a good man, though - damaged but good. Her called her little bird and was kind to her.

She forces herself to focus on the present. _It won't do me any good to dwell on the past_ , she tells herself. _I can't help him anymore_. He disappeared before Margaery entered her life and has been missing ever since. Most people say that he's dead, but she chooses not to believe that. He's still somewhere out there. He must.

"I'm lousy," she says.

"You're close," Margaery tells her. She readjusts the brunette's posture a bit and then adds, "Okay, try now."

Sansa nods. Her breathing shakes. _You can do this_ , she tells herself. _You have to_. There will not always be someone around to save her from the monsters that wish to devour her. She has to take care of her own self.

She is not weak.

She pulls the trigger. The rebound knocks her back into Margaery, but none of the two mind it. "You killed him!" Margaery exclaims and plants a soft kiss on her cheek.

Sansa looks at the target. She found it on the head. She imagines that it's Joffrey, although she is certain that Margaery must have got him right between the eyes - she is really good at shooting.

"I guess that's something," she says, sounding bitter even to her own ears.

Slowly, almost painfully slow, Margaery's hand creeps down the redhead's arms and takes the gun from her. She then turns her around gently so that they are facing each other, blue eyes locking with brown ones.

"Don't sound so grumpy," Margaery teases her. "You did really good. And we'll practise more. I didn't even find the target when I tried for the first time; at least you managed that."

Sansa vividly remembers their first practice, Margaery carefully observing her, then changing her stance. She remembers butterflies fluttering in her stomach as they stood there, so close, Sansa safe in Margaery's embrace. It felt like they were spooning.

They have come a long way since then. They have shared secrets and fears with each other. Sansa has matured and learnt things.

And they are now closer than they used to be.

Sansa doesn't know how to name what they have. She can't call Margaery her girlfriend, it sounds immature, childish, and takes away the depth and the deeper meaning of their relationship. She can't quite say that they are lovers either, that lacks something as well; for, Margaery is Sansa's everything - her saviour, her companion, her partner in crime, her friend, her mentor, her sister, her confidante, the person she trusts completely, the person to whom she has given all of herself.

No, there is no word in the English language that quite covers and describes accurately what they are.

"You are so strong, Sansa," Margaery says as she arranges a stray lock of auburn hair behind the other girl's ear and strokes her cheek tenderly. "You are so strong and perfect, my little wolf."

As the two of them kiss, Sansa feels those familiar butterflies in the area of her abdomen as well and believes that there is still good in the world.

* * *

 _Cheesy ending is cheesy! Feedback is love xxx_


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